Mori Kim Marr was the most destructive force in the universe. She had nothing to live for but death. She was the Exit Vector.

“Hell,” she whispered. Though she knew it was only a holographic projection, Mori couldn’t help herself. “Oh Jesus, you fuck, say something…”

The hologram of Christ jerked with a digital crackle. It turned to Mori with flat and unseeing eyes.

“Die,” it said, “Mori.”

“Die…” the angels chorused.

Mori gaped with disbelief, rain dripping from her face. Then her eyes narrowed, her mouth twisted. She shuddered…

And every holographic advert on the avenue screamed, writhing in what seemed like agony. Beams lanced in white and blue. The holo-projector, a black panel flush with the curb, exploded in an ugly belch of sparks. The adverts shrieked, warped, vanished.

* * *

From not far away, Trista looked up. “The pulse.”

From orbit, from the center of the planet, from everywhere, the Rim Walkers’ attention grew sharp. “It begins.”

From the shadows, the Nox Golgoth drew hateful breath. It ends.

* * *

“Oh, man,” Billy winced. The dead holo-projector sizzled and popped in the rain.

“Quiet, Billy,” Frost said. She drew Mori close, surreptitiously checked her vitals. “Oh no. Not good. That is, ah—come on, child. Almost there.”

Mori shivered in the robot’s arms, soaking wet, almost completely numb. “Where—where are we going again?”

“The Bookstore. Warren’s. A safe place.”

“Wa-Warren’s? What are we, ga-goddamn rabbits?”

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